


Friendly Reminder

by s_k_apegoat



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Bondage, Exhibitionism, M/M, Other, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-04
Updated: 2014-09-10
Packaged: 2018-02-16 02:02:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2251695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/s_k_apegoat/pseuds/s_k_apegoat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Breakdown returns from a near-death experience with M.E.C.H, Knockout feels that his partner needs a little reminding as to why he should strive to remain online.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i really don't write fanfics often but i was inspired by a coughpornocough for this.  
> i don't have a beta-reader but i've tried my best to make this as grammatically correct as possible aha.
> 
> will eventually lead to smut.

His processor couldn’t decide which was worse. The painful throbbing of the gaping optic socket on his face or the shame he felt when he reported back to Megatron. Actually, no, the way his Commander looked at him rather disinterestedly and had given him nothing more than a rather annoyed scoff and a curt “Get yourself fixed.” was probably worse than his physical injuries. Megatron probably found watching Soundwave’s back more interesting than him. The ex-Wrecker had actually, rather foolishly believed that his Lord would care at least a little for his well-being, enough to believe that Megatron would have sent in a rescue team when he was captured by M.E.C.H., or at least negotiated with Silas for his release, but alas, Breakdown realized he was perceived as nothing more than a mere drone.  
Bulkhead probably cared more for his existence than Megatron did.

Speaking of drones, he was 94% sure that most of the on-shift Vehicons at the command bridge had been watching him in his conversation with Megatron. The feeling of being watched by a crowd still gnawed at him and made his protoform itch under all the armor, the thought making Breakdown absent-mindedly scratch at his forearm as he hobbled towards the MedBay. He was getting increasingly uncomfortable with passing drones that eyed him curiously, this prompting the bulky Decepticon to attempt at walking faster, but only resulted in making his knee joints clank in pain.  
“Fragging M.E.C.H…” He muttered to himself, cursing outwardly at Silas and his gang of fleshbags. “Fraggin’ Bulkhead.” The thought of Bulkhead appearing as his savior right before his lower legs were sawn off only made Breakdown’s frustration grow, his aching knees reminding him of that fact in the form of a painful jab to the nervous systems with each step he took.  
The foul-mouthing and grinding of dentas even managed to spook one of the drones unlucky enough to adjacently cross the large mech’s path, Breakdown’s angry growl at being bumped into sending the Eradicon scurrying off the opposite hallway after gathering the cubes of Energon he’d dropped, (or rather, thrown over his head out of shock) because of Breakdown.

A sigh of relief escaped Breakdown’s vents as he approached the Medical Bay doors, eager to get his weight off of his knees and submit to Knockout’s healing administrations.  
“Knockout…” His voice was hoarse from everything he’s been through the last 14 hours, but the sight of the ruby red medic was enough to bring a note of cheerfulness into his tone. When Knockout did not respond, Breakdown failed to notice his bondmate’s deliberate snub and tensed posture, instead, proceeding to climb onto an empty medical berth and make himself comfortable, all the while complaining about the events he’d went through: His kidnapping at the hands of M.E.C.H, how it was that blasted Bulkhead who came to his rescue, Starscream’s blackmailing threats, Lord Megatron’s lack of reprimand or punishment and why is Knockout not tending to his wounds already?

As if the Decepticon doctor didn’t already know what has happened within the last 14 hours!  
Need he mention how worried and frantic he’d become when Breakdown’s comm systems were abruptly cut off, (which Knockout realized only when a sharp jolt was felt through their spark-bond) and he had attempted to contact Breakdown in fear of his safety, but to no avail; He was panicked enough to privately beg Starscream for sending out his armada to search for Breakdown when Megatron had denied him that request, the Second in Command not feeling inclined to grant this act of kindness due to lack of an equal favor in return;  
Knockout had even approached the Communications Commander as a last resort, imploring him to try harder in locating Breakdown’s life signal. Soundwave had shifted his attention from his holoscreen to the medic after several silent, tense nanokliks, Knockout wondering what kind of expression the masked bot could possibly be wearing under his visor, before Breakdown’s slightly distorted voice was replayed, neon green soundwaves on the LCD mask dancing along with it, “I’ll be back before you know it, Doc.”  
The medic didn’t even realize his vents had ceased functioning until Soundwave had reached out with one long arm, giving him a light pat on the shoulder with those spindly servos before turning his head back to his computer. A startled puff of air had rushed from Knockout’s vents at the gesture, and he promptly scurried back to MedBay after a muttered “Thank You”, assuming that Soundwave had acknowledged his request. The fact Soundwave has seemingly been spying on and recording him and Breakdown’s private conversations was a little too unnerving to handle in his agitated state though.

It wasn’t until Knockout felt a “ping!” at the back of his helm did he snap out of his thoughts and back into reality. Only then did he realize he’d been vigorously rubbing away at the same spot on one of his medical tools with a cleaning rag, completely oblivious to Breakdown’s calls and thus causing Breakdown to resort to throwing a small bolt at the crimson bot from his berth.  
“Knockout.” Breakdown repeated, impatiently tapping his fingers rhythmically on the metal berth, “Knockout, have you been listening to me at al-” He was cut off when his higher-ranking officer’s palms slammed onto the tool table, the red con’s shoulders visibly tense as his engines rumbled lowly, Knockout’s frame trembling as he tried to keep his rage under control.  
He slowly turned towards Breakdown’s berth, lips pressed into a tight line, eyes narrowed into slits but the red pupils glowing feverishly red, the menacing facial expression enough to stop Breakdown in his tracks for a moment before the larger bot attempted a cheeky grin, pointing at his missing optic and going “Heheh…Hey,Doc. Missing an eye here. Little help would be appreciated?” When his bondmate didn’t display any signs of acknowledgement, Breakdown tried again, gesturing to his optic socket by repeatedly pointing at it and grinning just a little wider. It earned him a slow blink from the medic whom then turned back to his tool table, the metal apparatus clinking with his fumbling. Taking that as a sign that Knockout would soon be starting repairs on him, Breakdown settled back into a comfortable position, once again complaining about his terrible, terrible day. 

The ranting only riled Knockout on more and more each passing nanoklik, enough for Knockout to plug the large Decepticon into the systems for monitoring none too gently, Breakdown grunting in slight pain and surprise when the cord was shoved into a socket on his chassis. “Ouch. Doc.” He grumbled, scratching idly at the edges of the socket with thick servos as he gazed up at the violet lights set in the ceiling of the medical bay. Exhaustion from the ordeals he’s been through began to creep up on him as the lights began to blur and sway a little through his remaining optic.

Initial look-overs of Breakdown’s anatomy revealed no internal system damage, save for the missing right-optic. And judging by the way Breakdown limped into the Medbay and how his leg joints continued to hiss and whine despite having no pressure put on them, it was pretty obvious that Breakdown’s legs were substantially damaged as well. Knockout vented heavily, optics sweeping over the dents, scratches and drill marks spread all over his mate’s metal body, a snarl creeping onto his lip plates as he noted the concentrated marring on Breakdown’s chest, evidence of M.E.C.H’s failed attempt at dissecting the Decepticon for a closer look at his spark chamber.  
The medic remained silent as he transformed his right arm, the gleaming buzzsaw whirring and whining dangerously as he approached the berth, already getting to work in removing Breakdown’s lower legs at the knee joint, unfazed by the shower of sizzling sparks that flew from the contact point.  
“Ugh. You’re cutting off my legs? A bit drastic don’t you think, Doc? It’s only my knees that hurt..!” Knockout’s glare was enough to shut him up, and Breakdown let his head fall back onto the berth with a quiet grumble. Normally, the red medic would’ve snapped at Breakdown by now, reprimanding the larger bot for being so careless and threatening to put Breakdown’s nervous systems back online throughout the surgery if he didn’t shut up. But for now, removing Breakdown’s legs was a more pressing matter. It would allow the medic better access in rearranging the nerve wirings within and replacing the damaged metal platings of Breakdown’s knee joints, but that was not his primary intention at the moment.

When both of Breakdown’s legs were severed at the joints, Knockout moved the parts onto a separate examination berth with the help of a Vehicon Breakdown did not realize had entered the Medbay, only being alerted to the Vehicon’s presence when he felt the restraining cuffs on his berth engage and he had raised his head to look at Knockout questioningly (Albeit with much difficulty when his chassis and arms were locked into place.) A hiss and whirr and the medical berth slowly moved upright, allowing Breakdown a clearer view of Knockout standing with a servo on the medbay computer panel and the Vehicon standing next to the medic, figeting rather nervously.  
The purple drone waved a clawed servo at Breakdown weakly, with a quiet “Hey,B-Breakdown…” The voice was enough for the blue wrecker to identify the Vehicon, Breakdown was familiar and friendly with the Vehicons after all. “Hey, Mike. (Or better known as MI-K3)” Breakdown grinned, “I look like scrap.huh?” The drone merely nodded meekly, before averting eye contact, which Breakdown found to be unusual considering Mike’s normally talkative nature. 

“Breakdown.” This was the first time Knockout has spoken ever since the wrecker had entered the Medical Bay, the rumble of a voice enough to snap Breakdown’s attention back to his bondmate. “’Mikey’ here is going to be my assistant today.” The red bot announced, looping an arm over the Eradicon’s shoulders as if they were lifelong friends, an unreadable smile spreading on the pristine white faceplate. Perhaps Knockout smile was one of amusement, him finding the nickname he’d endowed on the drone rather funny, though the victim in question squirmed rather uncomfortably under the medical officer’s embrace.  
Breakdown blinked with his remaining good optic, unsure of why borrowing the help of an Eradicon for a medical procedure would require a formal announcement. But before he could question the doctor’s antics, Knockout continued, “…Not for the surgery, mind you. At least, not yet.” The smile remained on his face, Mike fidgeting even more visibly under his arm now. “It seems you need a little… Reminder, of who you should be concerned about most… And to whom your loyalties should truly lie.” Mike cast the medic a slightly wary look at that, and the smile vanished from Knockout’s face almost instantly as he shoved the smaller bot towards the medical table in front of Breakdown, the Vehicon yelping a little in surprise.

“Tut tut. Shhh,now.” Knockout cooed, keeping Mike at the edge of the table and holding onto his chin, the steel-grey talons stroking the bottom of the face plate lightly. Mike had no choice but to stay as still as he could, servos kept to himself as he leaned back and away from the Medical Officer at a rather awkward angle, trying to keep bodily contact to a minimum whilst casting Breakdown an apologetic look, (well, as apologetic as an expressionless faceplate could muster, at least). Knockout and his own interface panels were a little too close for comfort at the moment.

 

Knockout had comm-ed the command bridge-class drones in need of a helper, and Mike was the one who had lost at rock-paper-scissors, a game the drones have managed to discover on the human worldwide web and had thought it was a suitable method in determining who would take on whatever menial duties command-bridge officers have assigned.  
He whined a little, accidentally, being assigned to moving deactivated comrades bodies from the MedBay was a better option than this..! This was uncharted territory… For him, at least. He was not one of the drones who’d had any sort of close encounter with the Decepticon doctor, those who have, returned either traumatized, never laying eyes on the Doctor ever again, or they’d be so smitten with Knockout and his ways (or glitched, in Mike’s opinion), never again sated by interfacing with any other bot, and Knockout was entirely off-limits (Most of the time), due to him being Breakdown’s bondmate as well as a higher-ranking officer. 

A slow grind of the Doctor’s hips against his own elicited another, louder whine from the Vehicon’s vocals, and the purple mech’s body began to hum and vibrate, the drone’s form of a tremble. Knockout chuckled, “Your first time, Mikey?” Another excruciating grind of the hips, and the soldier nodded his helm slowly, before realizing he was nodding in approval at the contact instead of answering to the Doctor’s question. He reverted to frantically shaking his helm instead. That earned him another throaty chuckle from the Decepticon medic, “Mikey,” Knockout cooed again, “You’re going to help me with a… Simple demonstration today.” He turned and looked over his shoulder at Breakdown, (Mike attempted to scramble up and backwards onto the table as the Doctor was distracted at this point), but Knockout kept him in place with a claw planted firmly on his angular hips. “Relax.” And claws ceased their grip slightly, moving upwards to trace the large headlights set in Mike’s chassis with the sharp tips. “We’re going to have a lot of fun together.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i've been working on this on and off after class the past week and i still haven't even gotten to the best parts yetttttttttt.  
> the future chapters are all gonna be plain porno sorry if you came for something deep lolololol.  
> suspense suspense what could Mike's secret trick beeeeeee?
> 
>  
> 
> leave me commentssssssss i lahv commentsssssssssss. <3

Knockout wasted no time familiarizing himself with the curves of Mike’s faceplate, generously mouthing along the silver metal and down the adjoining neck cables, nibbling at the main fuel lines and dragging his claws down the now not-so-much unscathed headlights on Mike’s chassis. The fact that Mike did not have an actual mouth didn’t really bother either of the Decepticons, for one, the Eradicon was still too conflicted to actually give any sort of response besides continuing to tremble; And Knockout, on the other hand, was frankly, quite glad that the drone didn’t have a mouth to kiss him back with. Interfacing was one thing, but kissing was almost as intimate as spark-bonding. To Knockout, at least. Not that he was ever going to reveal to Breakdown the fact he was the only one the medic ever allowed kisses to be shared.  
  
  
“I know your libido is constantly at an all time high but can you at least fix me up first before fragging another mech?” Breakdown inquired, irritation evident in his voice as he struggled against the glowing bonds around his wrists, “And I’d rather not stay for the show.” He added, a little more quietly.

“You’re more than welcome to leave, dear Breakdown.” The red bot drawled, smirking, but never stopping in his molestation of poor Mike. That only earned him another growl from the restrained Wrecker, who knew all too well that with or without the bonds that bound him to the medical berth, he was incapable of getting anywhere without his legs. So that means Breakdown was forced to watch the live porno, starring his bondmate, play out before him.

Knowing that Breakdown had come to terms with his realization, Knockout gave him another fleeting look over his shoulder before turning his attention back to Mike, sliding his way down the Vehicon’s front, sensually scraping his claws down the polished metal and mouthing his way along the transformation seams as he gracefully slid into a kneel. The act had Mike squeaking in surprise and his arms flailed, scrambling to hold onto something and eventually settling on the edge of the table he was leaning on, certain that Knockout would amputate him like he did to Breakdown should Mike lay a servo on the Medic and accidentally damage his finish.  
  
“Open for me?” Knockout drawled, crimson optics boring into Mike’s V-shaped visor as he dragged his steel-gray glossa over the Vehicon’s interface panel. Mike shuddered at the contact, and the lower part of his panel snapped open, a stream of lubricant immediately trickling down the inside of his legs with his valve being exposed. He whined again out of embarrassment, instinctively trying to close his legs together, which proved difficult with the medic pressing his face in close to lap at the trail of lubricant sliding down his inner thighs. “How considerate of you.” Knockout smiled, “But I meant your other panel.”  
‘Other’ panel?’ Mike wondered, was Knockout referring to his spike housing?  
“I..I... We-We’re usually on the…uh…the receiving end,S-Sir…” He stuttered, obviously embarrassed that he had to clarify his (evidently wrong) course of action .  
“I’m aware of that.” The medic replied, eyes narrowing in annoyance, “Now, open.”

Mike’s spike housing slid open with a slow hiss, his spike emerging from an obscure slit, standing stiff as it fully unsheathed. Knockout considered the Vehicon’s spike for a moment or so, eventually deeming it rather bland, boring, even. It was of normal thickness and length, no particular customizations nor decorations. Compared to Breakdown’s spike which was of a formidable length and girth, the organ covered with semi-hard barbs set in reverse, and also the knot that came with it… Knockout’s valve contracted in a pleasurable jolt just thinking about his mate’s equipment. Until he remembered that Breakdown is currently being locked to a berth with his legs cut off. Ah well, the Vehicon’s spike would just have to do for now then.  
Mike jumped at the playful nip delivered to the tip of his spike, his arms reflexively jolting forwards to Knockout’s helm (to shove it away or to pull it closer, his processor really couldn’t decide), but he managed to place them back on the berth edge with much self-constraint, the tips digging into the metal ever harder.

“Hmm.. Sensitive, are we?” Knockout chuckled, extending his glossa and catching the droplet of pre-ejaculation fluid that leaked from the pointy tip. He made sure Mike was watching him retract his glossa into his mouth, he swallowed, then licked around his lips, smacking them as though he was a sparkling that had been given the sweetest energon pop in the world.

“Mmmnnnhhhh…” Mike shuddered, the medic’s rumbling purr shaking his very protoform.  
He couldn’t hold back the strangled “Ark..!” that burst from his vocals when Knockout took advantage of his moment of weakness, delving in to lick a rough, deliberate stripe from Mike’s valve to the tip of his spike. It was enough to push the Vehicon over the brink to overloading. Lubricant gushed from Mike’s valve and the Doctor caught the liquid in his hands, using Mike’s own transfluids to slick up his spike, rubbing gently at the hypersensitive organ with one hand.

“ _Very_ sensitive.” Knockout concluded, chuckling softly, bringing his other hand up to lightly wipe at the transfluid on his face.  
“I’m-I’m sorry, S-Sir..!” Mike fumbled, pulling a spare cloth from his subspace, “It’s just that… W-We don’t usually get treated as anything m-more than a Pleasurebot… ” He began to reach for Knockout’s face, only to have his wrist grasped in the medic’s hand.  
“Not even with Breakdown?” Knockout questioned coldly, all trace of warmth vanishing as he fixed Mike with a piercing look, daring him to give him an answer.

“I never fragged him.” Breakdown announced in a tight tone, the first sound he’s made ever since Knockout started going down on the Vehicon. Mike tensed at the wrecker’s voice, but Knockout seemed to be satisfied with the answer he’s received and a pleased smile crept back onto his faceplates. He rose from his kneeling position, giving Mike a little smirk before sauntering over to Breakdown.  
The large mech's lip plates wrinkled in annoyance when Knockout came into clear view under the operation lights, the transfluid on his face catching the glare of the light source, making the Medic appear more obscene than ever. The Ex-Wrecker wasn’t able to hide the flinch when Knockout’s helm pressed closer to his, twisting his helm away as far as the restraints on his neck allowed.

“Aw… Isn’t big, bad Breakdown going to give me a kiss after he fought _so_ hard to come back to me?” Knockout pouted, his expression adding to the mockery. That pout was soon replaced with a cruel laugh, as he jerked his mate’s helm to face him, forcing his lips down onto Breakdown’s and smearing Mike’s transfluid over the larger mech’s faceplates. Breakdown spat to the side as soon as Knockout let his helm go, the one optic glaring at Knockout’s back as the medic moved back towards where Mike stood.

“Tastes good, doesn’t he?” Knockout commented as a matter-of-factly, his predatory gaze once again fixated on Mike. “And I… Mikey, will drink my fill of you tonight.”  
With that, he came to a stop before the Vehicon, wiping the residue transfluid from his face and lapping it up from his servos as he nudged Mike to his knees, maneuvering both of them so that now it was Knockout who was leaning against the medical table, Mike kneeling before him, the Vehicon’s helm level with his superior officer’s still-closed interface panel.

Mike let loose a shaky ex-vent, worrying about how on Cybertron would he be able to pleasure the Decepticon Doctor with the lack of lip plates or a glossa (Or a face, for that matter…). Maybe he should’ve asked the Communications Officer how he manages to- Oh Primus, what was he thinking?! Mike quickly pushed the thoughts of Soundwave interfacing out of his processor, refocusing his optics on the task at hand. He was about to raise doubts about his ability to complete the oncoming task when Knockout answered the question for him.

“You know, Mikey… Commander Starscream once informed me of a little trick you Vehicons are capable of… I think I’d like to try that.” The medic’s lip plates spread into yet another smirk, and it took a few nanokliks for Mike to process the doctor’s request. ‘Starscream? Trick? Why would Starscream know anything about Vehicon tric- …Oh. ‘

The realization that dawned on his expressionless mask seemed to be obvious enough, that Knockout’s smirk stretched even wider. He let his valve and spike panels slide back with a ‘Chink!’, Mike’s face now mere inches from his superior’s interface equipment.

“Now, if you will, Mikey…”


End file.
